


Maybe It's Fate (Or Maybe You Locked Our Damn Bikes Together)

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Bisexual Malia Tate, F/F, Tumblr Prompt, awkward kira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You accidentally chained your bike to mine and I can’t leave until you get back AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe It's Fate (Or Maybe You Locked Our Damn Bikes Together)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/127976496935/you-accidentally-chained-your-bike-to-mine-and-i).

Malia Tate is 500% done with the world. When she—barely—graduated high school, she thought she was leaving behind all her awkward teenage hormones and embarrassing moments. She still hasn’t forgiven her dad for casually cleaning his shotgun when Malia brought home her first boyfriend.

Throwing that red cap up in the air was supposed to signify Malia leaving behind her old life to start somewhere new where no one remembered that she was the reason half her family died in a horrific car crash when she was 8.

Grimacing, Malia shook off those dark thoughts and tugged ineffectually at her bike chain again. Instantly, bubbling frustration drowns out the deep sadness tugging at her soul. Sure, Mendocino Community College is only two hours south of Beacon Hills, but that doesn’t make the fact that Malia ran away from her problems any less true. Growling, half annoyed at her wallowed and half annoyed at her current problem, Malia viciously kicks her beat up old bike. It shivers, metal clanging, but remains stubbornly in place.

Locked to  _someone else’s_  bike.

While Malia has a class to get to.

A class she’s pretty sure she’s failing.

Damn it all to hell.

How does that even happen when their bikes are the only ones in the stupid metal rack. So much for college being better than high school. Groaning, Malia desperately checks her phone. She’s already five minutes late to her lecture hall, which is across campus of course. As enticed as she is by the idea of sprinting across the entire school to get to her Calculus class, Malia would rather not be late to class  _and_  come back to find her bike stolen, thank you very much. Resigning herself to her shitty fate, Malia mutters a bitter, “Fuck,” before throwing herself on the bench next to the bike rack.

She idly entertains the thought of getting out her math textbook—even if she’s not technically failing, a flat C isn’t exactly what she was hoping for—and then laughs at herself for even trying to be responsible. Instead, she whips out her phone and decides to bitch to Lydia on Snapchat.

Thirty minutes later, Malia is bored out of her mind—Lydia had to abandon her for class like the goody two shoes student she is—and about ready to murder whatever loser comes to finally collect their Goddamned bike. That may or may not have something to do with the fact her stomach is growling more than Derek does when Stiles makes fun of his eyebrows.

She’s laying on her back on the bench, probably getting a dozen splinters up her ass, with an arm flung over her eyes, when she hears the approaching footsteps. “About fucking time,” she snarls, swinging her feet off the bench to stand up and give this asshole a piece of her mind. “What the hell were you doing, watching grass grow?” And then Malia promptly shuts up because the most beautiful girl she’s ever had the privilege of laying eyes on is standing in front of her—plush pink lips parted in surprise, dark hair falling over her shoulders, slanted brown eyes framed with mile long lashes.

Malia unconsciously licks her lips, throat dry. Oh God, she just yelled at an absolute goddess. Not fair.

Malia is 500% done with everything.

* * *

It takes Kira three tries to finally approach the pretty girl laying on the bench near her bike. She’s already blushing like mad from accidentally catching sight of the way the girl’s crop top left a smooth strip of bare skin above her shorts. Embarrassed and flushed with shame, Kira had tried to avert her gaze to a more appropriate area, but the rest of the beautiful girl was hardly less alluring. The sheer shirt clung to her breasts and her shoulder-length brown hair was just long enough for Kira to tangle her fingers in.

After a couple deep breaths and a silent pep talk, Kira approaches her bike. As she gets closer, she sees the way her lock is accidentally looped around both bikes. Kira’s ears burn; guess that’s why the girl is just napping there instead of hopping on her own bike and pedaling away.

And then the pretty girl is on her feet and spitting insults at Kira, who knows she 100% deserves them but still winces at every word.

“I know, I know,” squeaks Kira, hurrying to their bikes and fumbling to punch in the combination. “Sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“I missed Calc because of you,” the girl grumbles, arms folded crossly. What Kira doesn’t know is that Malia actually has zero qualms about skipping math. “How did you even do this? There’s literally 10 other empty spots and you chose the one next to mine.”

“Sorry,” apologizes Kira again. “I was in a rush and I wasn’t thinking. Are you still mad?”

The other girl grimaces, “Well I’m not exactly jumping for joy.” Kira is briefly impressed by how attractive she still looks even when she looks like someone pissed in her cereal.

“H-how about I make it up to you?” offers Kira shyly, smoothing down her skirt. Her eyes flick between the girl’s lips and her eyes, cheeks red. Kira knows their school is fairly liberal, but that doesn’t mean coming on to a potentially straight girl isn’t completely embarrassing.

The girl smiles, any vexation in her expression gone. “I’m listening.”

Kira’s pulse skyrockets. Did a gorgeous girl really just show an inkling of interest in her clumsy, awkward self? “Uh, you know the coffee place on the north side of school? Near the biology building?” At the girl’s nod, Kira beams. “My treat.”

“I’d like that,” she says, stepping closer and tilting her head down. They’re so close Kira dazedly thanks her lucky stars she bothered to put on perfume, and the girl reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Kira’s ear. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Cute Asian Girl in my head forever.”

Kira’s really tired of feeling like her face is on fire, but her body clearly doesn’t give a rat’s ass because here she is blushing like a high school virgin. “Kira,” she replies breathlessly, noses brushing where they’re practically sharing the same breath. “Kira Yukimura. You?”

“Malia Tate. Nice to meet you.”


End file.
